


i will make and burn an effigy (but please lay your hands on me)

by Mystic_Diamond



Series: all rise for the queen (the demetria alexandria blaiddyd collection) [2]
Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: (not between f!dimitri and ingrid but between f!dimitri and felix), Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, Arranged Marriage, F/F, Feelings Realization, Femslash, Friends to Lovers, Jealousy, Kissing, Pining, Rule 63, dimilix as a plot point but not endgame and ultimately unrequited
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-14
Updated: 2020-09-14
Packaged: 2021-03-07 01:08:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26464681
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mystic_Diamond/pseuds/Mystic_Diamond
Summary: They were going to be sisters one day, Demetria and Ingrid had told themselves when they were girls. Spiritually, at least, since Glenn was marrying into Galatea for all intents and purposes, for Ingrid was the one with the Crest, while Felix would be remembered as the queen’s husband after the royal wedding that was set in stone for the future and no one would ever dare call Demetria a duke’s wife, but technicalities never mattered much to little children.They would be sisters because they would both be marrying brothers when they were women. That was all that Ingrid and Demetria needed.How Demetria and Ingrid evolved from childhood friends to lady and knight to something even more than that.
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Ingrid Brandl Galatea, Felix Hugo Fraldarius & Ingrid Brandl Galatea
Series: all rise for the queen (the demetria alexandria blaiddyd collection) [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1923283
Comments: 2
Kudos: 16





	i will make and burn an effigy (but please lay your hands on me)

**Author's Note:**

> I have a sequel to the previous fic planned that's essentially a retelling of Dimitri's paired endings but with F!Dimitri (or as I like to call it, Nine Times Demetria Alexandria Blaiddyd Was Proposed to And What Happened Each Time She Accepted), but I was then haunted by f/f dimigrid brainworms. And now I will subject you to the results (warning: not my best work, ends kinda abruptly, couldn't put in every scene I envisioned, not the most fun fic to read if you're a dimilix shipper, and towards the end, the fic was keeping me from actually studying for college so I was forced to finish by Any Means Necessary).
> 
> Title from Lay Your Hands by Lo-Ghost. Content warning for brief descriptions of the Tragedy, general Dimitri and Ingrid trauma (including a brief mention of suicide ideation), brief description of attempted kidnapping (from Ingrid's paralogue), heteronormative gender roles as per Fodlan Society(TM), jealousy being a huge theme in this fic, discussion of men being gross, and Felix kinda being an entitled boyfriend pre-timeskip (he gets better but also doesn't get the girl, so rip).

They were going to be sisters one day, Demetria and Ingrid had told themselves when they were girls. Spiritually, at least, since Glenn was marrying into Galatea for all intents and purposes, for Ingrid was the one with the Crest, while Felix would be remembered as the queen’s husband after the royal wedding that was set in stone for the future and no one would ever dare call Demetria a duke’s wife, but technicalities never mattered much to little children.

They would be sisters because they would both be marrying brothers when they were women. That was all that Ingrid and Demetria needed.

The idea was probably wondrous because Ingrid never had a sister, only brothers whose company she constantly shirked, and Demetria was an only child who had never known the company of someone her age until she was introduced to her fiance at three years old.

Castle staff who were there that day when the princess and the duke’s youngest son met remarked that it was love at first sight for Felix. Felix himself readily admitted to that, or at least he used to. From what Demetria could remember, she was just excited to finally have a friend.

Ingrid was probably introduced to the princess because someone at the palace must've thought it improper for a budding young lady to only have male friends in her youth, even if those male friends were the sons of the two most distinguished Houses behind the royal family. If Ingrid didn’t have a Crest, she would have perhaps been a candidate for the future queen’s ladies-in-waiting.

Whoever thought that having a female friend would make the princess soft and proper must be rolling their eyes into the back of their skull, as Ingrid did not make the princess soft and proper but instead encouraged her to explore wild fields and forests and poke at everything within reach with a stick. Lambert didn’t find anything wrong with this picture; he in fact found it extremely amusing. It might have even taken a load off of his shoulders, gave him relief because he might not have known what to do with a dainty daughter, though he would’ve loved her all the same.

Some staff members had mused to themselves what the late queen would think, or if the princess would deign to be more proper had her mother not died while she was an infant.

It didn’t really matter in the end. Demetria and Ingrid would be improper noble girls together, and Sylvain would encourage them, as long as he got to be a part of the fun and say it was all his idea, and Felix would do anything and everything just so he could be next to Demetria, even if some games left him in tears.

Those had been such idyllic days. Demetria met more women in her life: her stepmother, Patricia, whom she adored because she smelled like honeysuckle and spoke with a deep and strong voice, one that should perhaps command a court or an army but instead softly sung lullabies, and Edelgard, who Demetria only knew for a year but that year was where she learned how to dance and what a bossy girl her age looked like, both things she would need to know for when she was to be crowned queen. But it was Ingrid that would always remain the first other girl in her life, the one who taught her to be an improper noble girl. 

But then the king lost his head in Duscur, Glenn had been run through with enough blades until his body was left an unrecognizable mess of veins and meat, and Patricia’s carriage had been overturned and set aflame. Demetria was the one to witness it all, her hands learning what it felt like to be burned and her eyes learning what the inside of a person's neck looked like.

That was the end to those idyllic days.

Ingrid lost her betrothed, and in the eyes of her parents, lost any foreseeable future as a noblewoman. What a pitiful girl she became in the eyes of the court, made a widow before she even got to wear the bridal garland.

But Ingrid refused to let the pity wear her down. After several months of distance from all of her friends, cooped up inside her room, she emerged from the dark determined to complete Glenn’s dreams for him, to wear the chainmail herself. She was no longer a bride, so that meant she was free, right? She would become that independent hero she had seen in Glenn and in her childhood idols and once she had embodied that hero, she would no longer be that weak, crying little girl hugging her knees and trying to shrink in on herself until she was small and compact.

Demetria was given pitiful stares as well, for she was the one who saw her father die. But they were so happy that she survived that she was given praise for being able to do simple tasks once her wounds healed. A maid cried when she began to speak coherently after what felt like centuries of silence. They were so deliriously happy that their beloved princess came out from the fire alive that they . . . . . tolerated the boy she brought back with her. It was only because of the princess’s orders that the boy was given treatment for his injuries. Demetria was aware of that. So was the boy.

Demetria paid no mind to the pity she was given. It wouldn’t do anything for her in the end. She needed to empty herself of all other feelings in order to focus on the goal ahead of her.

She survived the Tragedy for one reason and one reason alone. She will purge the world of those who stole the lives of her family and her friends and once that is done, she will finally turn the blade on herself and die.

Ingrid knew what she must do in the wake of Glenn’s death. She will become a knight and trade her duties as a noble’s daughter and another noble’s future wife for the duties that every knight with the privilege to serve the royal family carried. She was not a girl, but a hero who embodied loyalty and chivalry. There was a reason Glenn said she was better suited for the lance and not entertaining nobles at a tea party.

Demetria knew what she must do in the wake of Glenn’s death. She will avenge him, her father, her stepmother, and everyone else who died so painfully and needlessly that day. She was not a girl, but a tool for the dead whose cries for justice only she could hear. There was a reason she stumbled out from the massacre not fully dead but not fully alive either.

And it would not be until the Imperial Year 1180 that the two girls who had thought they would be sisters when they became women reunited.

* * *

When the strange mercenary with the flat gaze that would later be known as the new professor of the Blue Lions House approached Ingrid and Felix to introduce themselves, the first thing Felix told them about himself was that he was Demetria’s fiance.

Ingrid was taken aback when she heard him, not just because Felix later told the future professor that Demetria wasn’t to be trusted and that she would sink her teeth into them like a wolf does prey, but because she didn’t think the engagement still held water after all these years.

How could they still be set to be married when Felix couldn’t seem to be comfortable in the same room as his future wife?

Perhaps the engagement still standing would make sense if Rodrigue was one of those men who cared more about elevating his House’s status and his connection to the royal family than the well-being of his son and the princess, but Rodrigue was hardly that type of person. Or at least, that was how Ingrid viewed him, and it’s been a while since she saw him, the man who was going to be her father-in-law once upon a time. Maybe things have changed.

But even then, how could anyone tolerate the princess having a fiance that disrespected her so flagrantly?

(Ingrid then was unaware of truly  _ disrespectful  _ a man could be to a woman he had a marriage claim to. She hadn’t yet encountered a suitor who did far worse things than call her a few demeaning nicknames, who hadn’t seen her as another human being at all, only a breeding vessel for children with Crests and nothing else. She will encounter him eventually, and her distaste for marriage will transform into a full-fledged fear for her life when she opened another letter from her father.)

Demetria didn't seem to find it disrespectful that her future husband refused to address by title, or even a human name. She didn't seem to pay it any mind at all, only smiled in a mysterious way that almost bordered on amusement. Either she didn't think Felix was truly capable of despising her (with how he mooned over her as a child, Ingrid couldn't blame her) or she had absolutely zero self respect.

There were many things Ingrid wanted to say about the engagement still holding up. But she did not have the courage to speak them aloud. Though her parents sent her to Garreg Mach to meet noble sons of distinguished Houses, her own prerogative here was to train to be a knight. So while she was here, she wanted to behave in a knightly manner to her future queen.

As girls, they were friends, but now as they approached womanhood, Demetria was Ingrid’s liege, or at least she was in Ingrid’s mind. Ingrid couldn’t ask her liege questions she would’ve asked her when they were both children.

And so the questions about Demetria’s relationship regarding Felix went unspoken. Unfortunately, thoughts left unsaid still had a way of ruling over one’s mind. Ingrid wanted to forget the questions she wished to ask Demetria, and yet, they rattled and shook and made noise in the back of her head.

_ Why haven’t you broken off the engagement with him? _

_ Do you sincerely believe with the way he’s treating you now, he would make a good husband? _

_ Or do you not believe you deserve to be treated well as a wife? _

_ I’m not saying Felix is inherently a bad person now just because he’s changed, but he wouldn’t be a good husband to you. Anyone can see that. _

_ I believe you deserve a good husband, a good life partner. Everyone does. _

_ What about yourself would make you believe you don’t deserve at least the bare minimum? _

_ If it were up to me, I wouldn’t want you to get married until you’ve met someone you were content to spend the rest of your life with. _

~~_ If it were up to me, I wouldn’t want you to get married at all. _ ~~

~~_ Why do people think you need a husband anyway? You’re not like me, starving and backed into a corner. You’re a future queen, you have all the power in the world. Why can’t you walk through your reign unattached? _ ~~

~~_ If you need children that badly, why Felix? No children deserve to grow up hearing their father call their mother an animal. There are plenty of noble men who wish to throw themselves at their feet; you can have your pick of any of them. _ ~~

~~_ And even then, I don’t think any of them are good enough for you. _ ~~

~~_ I can’t think of any man who I think would be remotely worthy. It is so easy for noblemen to show themselves to be distasteful. Why do we have to bother with any of them, just because we’re women? _ ~~

~~_ I think I would make a better spouse for you than any of them. _ ~~

* * *

Time went on at Garreg Mach and Ingrid and Demetria ended up slipping back into comfort with each other with ease. It had to have been the missions they have been going on as a class. The thrill of battle. Ingrid wasn’t exactly  _ excited _ about killing people, that would make her a madwoman, but at the same time, taking down bandits in order to keep the villagers they were plundering safe was the stuff of her fantasies as a child. And being in battle next to Demetria, jumping in occasionally to protect her from harm, was also a dream she imagined vividly from within the safety of her own head.

She never got to do this before, as it was Felix who was at her side when at Demetria’s first taste of the battlefield. Felix had come out of that experience spitting curses at the princess, but for Ingrid, seeing Demetria cut through swathes of bandits with her lance felt inspiring. Like she was witnessing a moment that deserved to be captured on a canvas. She would have to ask Ignatz from the Golden Deer, who she was seeing slowly shape up to be a potential new friend and ally, if he felt the same. Perhaps he would make the painting Ingrid saw in her head real.

Felix had said Demetria was a beast ruled by bloodlust, but Ingrid saw no such thing when Demetria took to the field, lance in hand with an order from the professor to fulfill. She looked beautiful, more so than usual, when she held a weapon in her hands. She stood at her full height, something Demetria was scared to do normally, as she was taller than all the other women at Garreg Mach, even Catherine. She looked assured of herself, like she was finally comfortable with her body, though the idea of possibly being uncomfortable in a body like Demetria’s was absurd when the princess was so naturally beautiful. She had many admirers at school, and even Ashe was among them, though he would never state it aloud.

(Another talk with Ignatz led Ingrid to realize that she really liked images of strong, tall women brandishing blades as they took to the battlefield. Guess that solved the mystery why Ingrid felt such awe seeing her princess cut through her enemies, but it also brought forth a hot feeling that pricked her skin whenever she tried to think about Demetria’s battle visage captured in a painting. Perhaps she’s not ready to ask Ignatz if he would be willing to draw Her Highness carrying her lance.)

But now Ingrid was left to wonder if noble sons would find it off-putting for Demetria to take to combat so easily. Of course, the princess being so strong was a sign of how well she was raised and trained, but if Felix was so profoundly disgusted by it, then maybe it was a repulsive trait to see in a wife despite the fact that it made her a stronger future monarch.

Perhaps suitors would find Ingrid off-putting as well. Maybe they would demand her to be softer and more feminine if she wanted their hand. Commit to magic like Annette and Mercedes and try to speak in a cuter voice, too.

Ingrid supposed if that were true, both she and Demetria would be unappealing wives. But the difference was that Ingrid was still left fruitlessly searching while Demetria’s marital future was secured, though only the goddess would know why.

Felix was not the type to keep his opinions smothered. If he objected to having Demetria be his wife, he would’ve most certainly said something by now. He could so easily call the princess a boar, a bloodthirsty beast, an animal walking on its hind legs, and yet the words “I don’t want to marry her” never passed his lips.

He still had a claim over her, even though he hardly bothered to respect her.

It filled Ingrid with frustration just thinking about it, combined with a strange, hot urge. She didn’t know what this feeling was, but it made an image of Demetria materialize in her mind’s eye, an image of her standing beside Felix, that mysterious smile on her face that Ingrid couldn’t decipher for the life of her.

She was flooded with this strange, hot feeling, to the point it made her ears turn pink and she had to immediately take a step outside to cool down. Ingrid has never felt more unnerved by her own emotions. It made her feel queasy to her stomach.

(She was not ready then to call the feeling what it was: envy.)

* * *

  
Her relationship with the princess does not remain perfect forever. They fuck up. They talk too much about a subject that should’ve never been broached: Glenn. More importantly: Glenn’s death.

Needless to say, Ingrid began to avoid Demetria after losing her composure in front of her and exposing herself. She laid bare ugly emotions she never voiced aloud until Demetria went and claimed Glenn died a needless death. She couldn’t bear to be alone with her again after that conversation.

It was so unfair, how easily the ghost of a man tore them apart.

But oh, it got worse.

It was an accident, of course. Ingrid had made a mistake and thought that it was her week for stable duty and had entered the stables fully expecting Sylvain to be waiting for her, as the professor was fond of pairing them up.

Instead, she found Demetria and Felix there, the horses completely left unattended because Felix had his hands in the princess’s soft hair, noticeably standing on the tips of his toes, and Demetria had her hands awkwardly placed on Felix’s shoulders and the two of them were  _ kissing _ .

Had Ingrid not dropped the bucket she was carrying, they might not have ever been alerted that she was there.

“I’m sorry!” the words were blurted out before Ingrid could stop them.

A look of fear passed over Felix’s features only briefly before they were smoothed over and replaced with that familiar scowl. “What are you doing here?”

“I-I-I thought it was my week to clean the stables,” Ingrid tripped over her words. Her palms felt sweaty, so she clasped her hands behind her back. She felt like she was the deer backed into a corner, even though Felix and Demetria were the ones who got caught.

It took too long for the two of them to finally have the mind to disentangle themselves from each other.

“Well, it’s clearly not. Leave.”

A flush of anger washed over Ingrid. Her face felt hot and uncomfortable. “So the two of you can go back to eating each other’s faces?”

“Ingrid . . . .” was the beginning of Demetria’s sentence before Felix cut it short with a wave of his hand.

“I don’t know why you’re so surprised by it,” Felix snorted. He crossed his arms. “We’re engaged.”

“ _ But you don’t even like her! _ ” Ingrid finally screamed, and it felt like she finally aired it out: all of the pent-up grievances she had regarding their still existing engagement. Her hands were now balled up into fists. She felt her nails bite into her palms.

Were she a boy, an inconsiderate one, Ingrid imagined she would’ve punched the wall.

Silence fell over the three of them, stiff and uncomfortable. One would be able to hear a pin drop.

“You don’t have to like a person in order to kiss them,” Felix said quietly. He almost sounded embarrassed to say it, his shoulders slumped in a sheepish manner. His face was bright red.

Ingrid was too mad to pay it any mind. “You’re disgusting, Felix,” she spat out. “I can’t believe I would ever say this, but you’re just like Sylvain.”

_That_ got Felix’s temper to flare up. “Don’t you _ dare _ fucking compare me to him. I’m not juggling several girls at once. I’m only fooling around with the boar and the boar alone.”

“ _ The fact that you still fucking call her that is the entire fucking problem! _ ” Ingrid felt almost hysterical as Felix continued to test her patience. She felt like she was slowly going mad. “You hardly treat her like another human being and you’re fooling around with her? Even Sylvain calls the women he’s with by their names, at the very least! You can’t even do  _ that _ !”

“I call her that because it’s the truth of who she is,” Felix scoffed. “If anything, it’s only right that we remain together. She shouldn’t be with any man unaware of her true nature. I’m the only one who has seen her at her worst and as I get stronger, I’ll be better equipped to handle her.”

“Are you seriously not hearing this, Your Highness? He’s talking about you like you’re an animal he has to train! I don’t know if you feel as if you owe him this because you’re engaged or what but I need you to know you don’t have to tolerate this kind of treatment and you can--”

“Funny,” Demetria’s soft voice stopped Ingrid dead in her tracks. She met Ingrid’s eyes with a small smile, “how you act as if this relationship is carried out against my will. How you assume I never gave Felix consent to touch me. I know how disgusting men can be, Ingrid. I live with my uncle, for the goddess’s sake. If Felix did something I do not tolerate, I wouldn’t let it slide. I can’t believe you think I have such little dignity. Do you think me a damsel you need to save?”

Ingrid’s mouth felt dry in her mouth. Demetria had hit her where it hurts and the worst part was that Ingird was now contemplating if she was right. Ingrid had wanted to act in a knightly manner to her future queen, and that involved rescuing her from dangerous situations. They had both grown up on chivalric tales of heroes and kings, and there were plenty of stories where the princess was trapped in a situation she couldn’t get out of by herself and a knight must save her from a horrid demise.

Ingrid had gone into this expecting herself to be the knight, Demetria the princess, and Felix the fire-breathing dragon. But what can a knight do when the princess seems to have entered into the dragon’s lair on her own volition, and against all odds, seems to have  _ courted  _ the dragon?

(And why does the knight seem to feel sick to her stomach just seeing them together?)

“I-I-I was just scared that you were in a situation in which you needed help,” Ingrid stuttered. Her ears felt hot.

Demetria shrugged elegantly, the movement of her shoulders briefly mesmerizing Ingrid. “I’m not. I know what I’m doing. And besides, you’re treating Felix like he’s a villain.” She giggled. “He may have said a few distasteful things about women here and there, but he wouldn’t assault me. Of course, if he ever were to do such a vile thing, I know how to break his arm. I’m not defenseless, Ingrid.”

“I can still hear the both of you,” Felix drawled. His hand was on his hip and his foot was tapping impatiently against the stable floor. "And I would never do such a thing anyways. I'm hurt you would even consider that a possibility."

It was jarring to hear Felix admit that he felt hurt, but the look on his face suggested he truly _was_ offended. 

“Apologies, Felix,” Demetria said absentmindedly. Her eyes weren’t on him, but Ingrid. Her gaze brought forth a flush of heat to Ingrid’s face. “I suppose we should actually do our part and clean the stables. It is our duty as students.”

“Fine,” Felix muttered, but there was a shade of disappointment in his words.

“I’ll leave the two of you be,” Ingrid choked out before running as far as her feet could take her. She couldn’t stand to be around them for any longer than necessary.

* * *

  
Afterwards, Ingrid felt as if she was slowly going insane, watching for any small hints of affection between Demetria and Felix every time they stood next to each other. Like she was waiting for them to kiss and expose their relationship in front of the entire class.

Of course they didn’t. Ingrid imagined Felix would rather die first than let Sylvain learn that he kissed his own fiancee.

(Was it just kissing, though? Felix turned his nose up at Sylvain’s shenanigans but he wasn’t oblivious to what Sylvain’s outings with women entailed. Demetria was the same. What if the two of them have gone past stolen kisses and into . . . .?)

The professor ate lunch with Demetria and Felix today. Demetria pushed her food around the surface on her plate without lifting her utensil up once to bring it to her lips. It maddened Ingrid to see food like that wasted. Were she more inconsiderate and cared less about how she presented herself, she would’ve taken a seat next to the princess and asked if she could divide up her food if she wasn’t going to eat it.

But since it was Felix who had the privilege to sit next to her, he said the words on Ingrid’s mind.

“Is something wrong? You’re eating like you hate the food.”

“Oh? That was not my intention, but I apologize if I hurt your feelings.”

Demetria frowned like she was caught doing something disgraceful. Felix just stared at her from the corner of his eye like he was waiting for her to cause a scene. The professor just continued to spoon their second tray of food into their mouth.

Ingrid felt childish and immature straining her ear to eavesdrop on their conversation, but she also felt compelled to continue listening, like there was an unspoken drama written in between bites of food and the occasional exchange of napkins.

Eventually, Demetria lifted a piece of meat onto her fork and held it out for Felix to take a bite.

Ingrid’s breath got trapped in her throat as she watched Felix take her offered bite casually, without turning red or spluttering. The gesture was exchanged as if it was the most natural thing in the world, as if they haven’t watched Sylvain try that on almost every girl he ate lunch with.

The professor looked up at them to smile. They seemed to be pleased to witness that small gesture of casual affection. They opened their mouth to introduce a new conversation topic for the three of them to discuss but Ingrid’s ears couldn’t hear any of it. Her head began to fill with a heavy, cotton-like feeling. All the chatter in the cafeteria Ingrid heard blurred together until it was just incomprehensible babble.

For the rest of lunch, her appetite was entirely nonexistent.

* * *

The Holy Tomb. The Flame Emperor. The Empire’s war against the Church. The professor going missing.

Everything happened so fast Ingrid couldn’t keep up with it all.

She returned home to Galatea. Began exchanging letters with Sylvain for a sense of normalcy.

The death of Regent Rufus. The rise of Cornelia and the Dukedom. Various territories in Faerghus tearing each other apart over who to stay loyal to.

Demetria’s execution.

They say Cornelia put her to death, gave her a quick and merciful end, and yet her body never resurfaced. Nevertheless, even if she was alive, she was imprisoned for the crime of slaying one’s kin. If she were alive, did she even deserve to take the throne back?

Ingrid remembered the princess’s hysterical laughter in the Holy Tomb. When she spoke to Edelgard clad in the Flame Emperor’s garb, the soft lilt of her voice vanished. Her voice revealed itself to be just as deep as Ingrid’s, if not deeper, and capable of  _ growling _ .

The memory alone was enough to raise goosebumps all over Ingrid’s arms and down her back.

That was the Demetria Felix knew. Perhaps Dedue knew her as well. And yet, Dedue remained her steadfast friend and Felix remained her fiance.

Could Ingrid mourn the loss of the woman who crushed a man’s skull with only her hand as much as she already mourned the loss of her childhood friend, her liege?

The girl who was going to be her sister once upon a time?

After a couple of moons hiding in Galatea, Ingrid’s father deemed it safe for his daughter to go visit Fraldarius to see Felix, as long as she was careful to hide away from the Dukedom’s eyes.

Ingrid entered Felix’s room in Castle Fraldarius to find her old friend burying his head in his arms in front of a cracked mirror, scattered mounds of blue-black hair on the floor and on Felix’s lap.

It felt unreal, to be standing in the same room as him after the princess was declared dead. Look at them, both of them widowed before the wedding day. 

“Go away, old man.”

“I”m not Rodrigue, Felix.”

Felix whipped his head around to face Ingrid and his expression quickly switched to that of broken to that of flustered and caught off-guard. 

He dropped the silver blade he must’ve used to cut his hair. Ingrid noticed his knuckles were bloody and that there were smears of red on the glass of the mirror.

There was also evidence that Felix punched the walls a couple of times, as well as overturned various pieces of furniture around his room. It looked as if a beast ran in and tore the room to shreds.

Ingrid shook her head.  _ Men. _

Felix scowled and stared down at his lap. “I’m not going to be like you, Ingrid. I’m not going to hole myself up in my room for several moons and watch the world pass me by. There’s a war breaking out and my father isn’t keeping his focus on the people of Fraldarius. My mother and uncle are picking up the slack in his stead, but there are already territories bowing down to Cornelia, that harpy woman. There’s just too much to be done and no one ever came forward with the boar’s body, so she  _ has _ to still be--”

Ingrid stepped forward to snatch the blade out of Felix’s hand. She gathered her long braid into one hand and angled the metal of the blade beneath it with her other hand.

With an arc of silver slicing through the air, thick tresses of gold fell onto the floor in a pile.

“I know, Felix,” Ingrid said solemnly. She looked in the mirror behind Felix. She would need to even out the edges later. Felix needed that too, now that she saw the sloppy cut his hair up close. They would have to do it together, after they clean up his room.

“Now what were you saying about Her Highness potentially still being alive?”  
  
  


* * *

It wasn’t until Ingrid watched Felix watched Demetria while the woman was brooding with the ghosts in her head that she realized Felix was truly in love with her.

He still called her a boar and claimed that if she got too out of control, he would strike her down. But he had also spent the last five years persistently searching for her, refusing to believe she was dead. It was his search that mobilized Ingrid and Sylvain out of their territories to actually  _ do _ something during the war instead of following their fathers’ orders.

Strangely, he acted softer in regards to the princess when he was speaking of her to other people. He spat in the professor’s face when they suggested Demetria was a lost cause.

He was always the first to volunteer watching her when Demetria haunted the chapel room. He still called himself her fiance.

Demetria, on the other hand, hardly paid any mind to anything that didn’t involve the bodies of their enemies, the bodies of those who died that day in Duscur, the body of Edelgard that she claimed would end the war and all of their suffering. She repaid Felix’s efforts to keep her in check with a dark glare and a scoff.

“I stopped being everyone’s princess the moment Cornelia’s goons threw me into the gallows--no, even before that. I stopped being your princess when I was wrongfully rescued from the fire that day in Duscur. What makes you think I’m still your bride, Felix? It was you who kept our engagement bound all those years, even when I suggested we could null it. Well, I’m nulling it now. No man deserves a walking corpse for a wife, correct?”

“The boar’s not in her right mind,” Felix said afterward. “Besides, as if her word alone would tear apart a contract that was written before either of us were born.”

“I’m just surprised to learn that it was you who kept the marriage contract going,” Sylvain said, eyebrow raised. “Plus, why do you care so much about a wedding when we’re, uh, in the middle of a war?”

Felix didn’t have an answer to that. Ingrid could answer it for him, but she will keep it unspoken.

At the end of the day, the two of them were the same. They were both so similar, it hurt.  
  
  


* * *

Dedue returned, and with him, a bit of light in Demetria’s remaining eye, the one that wasn’t a bloody pit. They continued to fight back against the Empire. Then Gronder. Edelgard. Fleche. Rodrigue.

The professor was the one who ended up bringing Demetria back into the light with her hand in theirs.

Ingrid could tell Felix was jealous of them for it. She was too. Both of them had wanted to be the one whose gentle (or whatever trait Felix wanted to exude) calmed the rage of the beast. For Ingrid, she specifically wished to be the heroic knight who transformed the monster back into the princess and brought her back home to the kingdom. For Felix, he may have thought that the love that survived years of estrangement and bitterness would’ve healed the broken soul and returned his fiancee to him.

Of course, this could all be Ingrid projecting. Felix developed a distaste for fairytale stories after his brother died, after all. Still, she recognized the envy in Felix’s eyes all too well.

Her relationship to her queen slowly began to mend. They discussed the things they were afraid to approach. The difficult feelings they were afraid to express.

Eventually, they were able to reach a conclusion that they should’ve both realized a long time ago: it is easy to give up your life and die and harder to fight and live, but the latter will always,  _ always _ be more rewarding.

Ingrid made a pledge to live for Demetria. She placed a hand on her chest as she made that vow, felt her heart hammer against her ribcage, and prayed Demetria couldn’t hear it. 

Thankfully, her queen didn’t hear the double meaning laced in her declaration. Instead, Demetria promised that she would allow Ingrid to protect her and the way she overlooked Ingrid’s vivid blush almost felt like a stinging rejection, even though Ingrid knew that was not her queen’s intentions.

It was strange how easily Ingrid accepted that she was in love with her liege. Her  _ female _ liege. She had expected some sort of agony to wash over her, but such feelings never came. The revelation didn’t make her uncomfortable like she thought it would. It settled against her skin like a soft, well-worn tunic. Like this had been her truth from the very beginning.

* * *

A few moons after the war’s end, Demetria made a surprise visit to Galatea. She ignored Ingrid’s father’s attempts at hospitality to walk straight to the stables where she knew Ingrid would be.

“Felix told me he’s in love with me,” was the first thing out of her mouth.

Ingrid had to hold back a chuckle. “He finally confessed? Well then, congratulations.”

Demetria blanched. “Am I the last person to know about this? Dedue had the exact same reaction.”

“Uh, yes?”

“ _ Fuck _ ,” Demetria cursed and Ingrid flinched like she was touched by fire. Demetria never even cursed during the worst period of her life, which really said something about her.

“I don’t know why you’re so surprised,” Ingrid began. She dropped the brush she was holding to step forward and place a hand on Demetria’s shoulder. “The two of you were engaged before either of you were born and then there was the . . . . ahem, time I walked in on you while we were at Garreg Mach.”

Demetria winced upon mention of that particular memory. “I never apologized for being so cold to you then, did I?”

“It was years ago, Your Majesty,” Ingrid chuckled. “To hear an apology now would be insulting.”

The pout on her queen’s face remained. “Still . . . . .”

Goddess, it was only because she was Demetria’s friend that Ingrid was privy to the sight of the queen of all Fodlan pouting like a child. A laugh bubbled up in Ingrid’s throat.

For so long, she had thought the fact that she was personally close to her liege as a weakness. That it would bite her in the ass at some point during a crucial battle and it would result in the loss of either her life or Demetria’s. Instead, it gave her witness to moments like these and only endeavored her to work harder to protect her queen and made her more aware of how much Demetria wanted her to return home safe and alive.

It was because of their friendship that Ingrid would never senselessly sacrifice her life for her queen. Being able to talk with her over tea again was motivation enough to fight for her life on the battlefield.

Demetria deliberated over her words for a while before opening her mouth again. “He’s started to call me by my name again. Sometimes, the word ‘boar’ slips out, but only by accident. He seems to be making a huge effort to start new again.”

Ingrid smiled. “That’s wonderful.” And it genuinely was, the miracle of Felix realizing he was wrong and putting in the work to repent. Sylvain was doing the same.

So were Demetria and Ingrid, the former for the atrocities she committed during those five years she was lost and the latter for the prejudice she fell into while she was desperately searching for someone to blame for Glenn’s death.

A sad smile flitted across Demetria's face. “It is, isn’t it? He’s working so hard for my sake . . . . . it would only be right to accept his feelings, wouldn’t it?”

“What? No!” Ingrid blurted out. “The only reason to accept his feelings is if  _ you _ feel the same way.”

“I have already slept with him, you know,” Demetria said, frightfully casual. “Back when we were in school. I suppose it was a spur of the moment decision the first time we did it, but does that really change anything?” A choked back tear could be heard in her words. “I have already stolen so much from him: his father, his brother, his innocence, all of his firsts. Isn’t it only fair that I give him something back for once?”

“You can do that by being a good queen and remaining his friend,” Ingrid pleaded with her. “But lying to him and telling him you love him when you don’t doesn’t help either him or you! It would be crueler to accept feelings you don’t return than being honest and rejecting him outright.”

“But aren’t I a disgusting woman then, to have used him like I did when we were seventeen?” Demetria said. Her voice sounded hollow. “He told me he has loved me all of his life, even when he was convinced he hated me, and all the while, I was oblivious to that. When he kissed me for the first time six years ago, I thought he was just using me to burn off frustration, but I suppose I only thought that because I wanted to use him. All those times I touched him, I never felt any romantic affection, only a need to get rid of energy I couldn’t burn off while training. I had used him, Ingrid, and I never even realized it.”

“You were seventeen, first of all, and second, I wouldn’t blame you for not realizing he had feelings for you back then. He was so critical of you and everything you did. It didn’t exactly scream ‘lovestruck.’ I only realized he was in love with you when I saw how he looked at you while you were lost to your ghosts.”

“He loved me even then, huh?” Demetria smiled sadly. “I’m almost in awe of how lasting his feelings are. He gave me such a heart wrenching confession too. He told me that he cannot imagine a version of himself that wasn’t besotted with me and that he’s sure that he would go to the grave still in love with me. He sacrificed so much for me and loved me for so long, doesn’t he deserve to have that what he’s been longing for? Doesn’t he deserve that?”

“This isn’t about what he deserves, it’s about how you feel,” Ingrid said stubbornly. “Your feelings matter, too. If you really can’t get out of your own head and stop punishing yourself for human emotions, then at least consider that it would be cruel for Felix to have a lover that lies to him whenever she tells him she loves him.”

A choked noise escaped Demetria’s throat. The taller woman stepped forward to embrace Ingrid and Ingrid wholeheartedly accepted it. Demetria buried her face in Ingrid’s shoulder to weep silently into the cloth of her shirt.

“I’m so sorry for not being able to figure that out on my own,” Demetria whispered. “I’m such a fucking wreck. I can’t stop telling myself to bury my own emotions for the sake of others. What a joke of an adult I’ve become.”

“You spent five years telling yourself you were a tool for the dead,” Ingrid said soothingly, rubbing circles into Demetria’s back. “We all know how hard it is to release old habits.”

A long moment passed, silence only filled by the occasional scuffle of a horse’s foot, before Demetria spoke once more, voice slightly strangled from tears shed.

“Ingrid, I don’t think I ever told you this . . . . . when I was a child, the thing that excited me the most about being engaged to Felix was that I thought it brought me closer to you.”

“Really?” Ingrid pulled away from their embrace to stare at Demetria with wide eyes.

Demetria nodded slowly, like she was afraid confirming what she said would make Ingrid scurry away.

The air around them suddenly felt heavy, like it was weighed down by everything that they were leaving unsaid.

“I felt the exact same about my engagement with Glenn. It took me years to realize that, but I can’t lie to myself anymore.” 

“Really?” Demetria breathed out, repeating what Ingrid said only moments ago.

“Yes!” Ingrid exclaimed, and she felt the presence of tears sliding down her cheeks. She has never felt more light and free in her life. She felt like she was soaring far above the ground, and yet her feet were still firmly rooted to the floor.

This was not a fantasy playing out from within the confines of Ingrid’s head, but real life, materialized in front of her.

This was her queen, silently confirming to Ingrid that she felt the same about her, when she had been so sure she would’ve been content to spend the rest of her life with her feelings unspoken.

When they kissed, it felt like an inevitability that was just waiting to be fulfilled.

“I guess I’ll have a proper excuse to give Felix when I tell him what I feel,” Demetria breathed out when the two of them finally pulled apart.

“Demetria,” Ingrid murmured, her breath tickling against the other woman's mouth. “I swear we need to stop talking about the men in our lives when we’re in each other’s arms like this.”

Demetria threw her head back to laugh, full-throated and not that dainty giggle she faked six years ago before the delightful sound was swallowed by Ingrid’s mouth as she was dragged into another kiss.

**Author's Note:**

> While I was rereading this before posting, I came to the conclusion that this fic does not pass the Bechdel test enough, even though it's literally femslash and ends with two ladies kissing.
> 
> I have a twitter you can follow (@amethyst_mirror) and if you somehow liked this fic, please leave a comment if you can because it gives me serotonin.


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